For the last few years, I've been writing about each profection year as I experience them. So far I've written about the 9th and the 10th houses and I hope to continue the series. I have found these pieces to be an extremely cathartic dumping space for my past year as I reflect on both my childhood experiences and the ones within the current year. These always fuel my own passion for astrology and I have loved hearing the stories, with all of their similarities and differences, from the readers in response.
If you are new to this concept, let me break it down for you before we explore the 11th house year:
What is a profection year?
Profections are a Hellenistic astrological timing technique that shows you the overarching themes one might be experiencing at a certain age. By looking at the house, sign, planetary ruler, and the planets contained within the house profected, we can make predictions about the kinds of experiences one might have during a particular year. We often joke, for example, that years 19 and 23 are particularly rough and this makes sense. These are the 8th and 12th house years, often associated with loss or at the very least, a more introspective time where one is examining their inner workings– even so, our experiences can differ depending on our personal planets and transits. It's always interesting to see the collective archetypal string that links us to particular ages and the support we can find through each other's stories. It is comforting to know that some things are just a part of the pattern and that they will pass. We can also look at our childhood years or the last time the house was profected to predict the archetypes that may show up again in the year ahead.
A profection year wheel looks something like this:
You can see that the profected house is in the innermost circle and the ages branch out from there. Depending on the traditional planetary ruler of the house that is affected, you will have a different undertone to your year. Last year, I was in my 10th house year ruled by the Sun as my time lord (since my 10th house is in Leo as a Scorpio rising). The Sun falls into my 7th house natally which added a very specific layer of connection between the 10th and 7th house. It's important to look at your profection year as well as the sign and planet ruling to understand the dynamicism of your personal experience. Transits to the "lord" of the year, in this case it was my Sun, can tell you more about this too.
You can discover which profection year you are in by going to an online calculator and typing in your birth information. It will show you both the sign and its planetary ruler, known as the lord that governs your year ahead.
You can see that since I turned 22 last year in 2023 the 11th house is highlighted. As a Scorpio rising, my 11th house is in Virgo traditionally ruled by Mercury who acts as the lord of the year. We can take it a step further and find where Mercury is in my natal chart (if you are a beginner, you can do this by going to a birth chart calculator) my natal Mercury falls in the 6th house in Aries so I know that both the 11th and 6th houses as well as the archetypal combination of Virgo and Aries are working together to create a unique circumstance every time this house is profected– at 10 years old, 22, 34, 46 and so on.
My 11th year began, as most birthdays do, with a gift.
I received a large statue of a turtle.
This was especially odd as this is not my favorite creature nor have I expressed any particular desire or interest in a turtle statue but who am I (astrologer, symbolism seer, synchronicity partner) to ignore such a blatant daimon delivered right to my fingers?
I immediately began researching the significance of the Turtle.
There is of course the fable of the tortoise and the hare, often an allegory of the success and wisdom found in slow, intentional movement. The turtle is about self preservation, likened to the esoteric hermit hiding away in its shell. It’s the symbol of health and healing for the same reason, restoration existing behind the shell, becoming selective about the environment or the invitations it pokes its head out for. In native tribes, the turtle shell was used to dispense medicine and seen as a divine container and calendar, the 13 squares on its shell representing the 13 Full Moons of the year and the 28 squares surrounding representing the days in a lunar month.
There is also Turtle Island, the indigenous creation story. I like Dr. Robin Wall Kimmerer’s version, it goes like this:
In the beginning there was the Skyworld.
She fell like a maple seed, pirouetting on an autumn breeze. A column of light streamed from a hole in the Skyworld, marking her path where only darkness had been before. It took her a long time to fall. In fear, or maybe hope, she clutched a bundle tightly in her hand.
Hurtling downward, she saw only dark water below. But in that emptiness there were many eyes gazing up at the sudden shaft of light. They saw there a small object, a mere dust mote in the beam. As it grew closer, they could see that it was a woman, arms outstretched, long black hair billowing behind as she spiraled toward them.
The geese nodded at one another and rose together from the water in a wave of goose music. She felt the beat of their wings as they flew beneath to break her fall. Far from the only home she’d ever known, she caught her breath at the warm embrace of soft feathers as they gently carried her downward. And so it began.
The geese could not hold the woman above the water for much longer, so they called a council to decide what to do. Resting on their wings, she saw them all gather: loons, otters, swans, beavers, fish of all kinds. A great turtle floated in their midst and offered his back for her to rest upon. Gratefully, she stepped from the goose wings onto the dome of his shell. The others understood that she needed land for her home and discussed how they might serve her need. The deep divers among them had heard of mud at the bottom of the water and agreed to go find some.
Loon dove first, but the distance was too far and after a long while he surfaced with nothing to show for his efforts. One by one, the other animals offered to help—Otter, Beaver, Sturgeon—but the depth, the darkness, and the pressures were too great for even the strongest of swimmers. They returned gasping for air with their heads ringing. Some did not return at all. Soon only little Muskrat was left, the weakest diver of all. He volunteered to go while the others looked on doubtfully. His small legs flailed as he worked his way downward and he was gone a very long time.
They waited and waited for him to return, fearing the worst for their relative, and, before long, a stream of bubbles rose with the small, limp body of the muskrat. He had given his life to aid this helpless human. But then the others noticed that his paw was tightly clenched and, when they opened it, there was a small handful of mud. Turtle said, “Here, put it on my back and I will hold it.”
Skywoman bent and spread the mud with her hands across the shell of the turtle. Moved by the extraordinary gifts of the animals, she sang in thanksgiving and then began to dance, her feet caressing the earth. The land grew and grew as she danced her thanks, from the dab of mud on Turtle’s back until the whole earth was made. Not by Skywoman alone, but from the alchemy of all the animals’ gifts coupled with her deep gratitude. Together they formed what we know today as Turtle Island, our home.
Like any good guest, Skywoman had not come empty-handed. The bundle was still clutched in her hand. When she toppled from the hole in the Skyworld she had reached out to grab onto the Tree of Life that grew there. In her grasp were branches—fruits and seeds of all kinds of plants. These she scattered onto the new ground and carefully tended each one until the world turned from brown to green. Sunlight streamed through the hole from the Skyworld, allowing the seeds to flourish. Wild grasses, flowers, trees, and medicines spread everywhere. And now that the animals, too, had plenty to eat, many came to live with her on Turtle Island.
The Turtle has an overwhelming zodiacal connection to both Cancer and Virgo– I would not be the first astrologer to suggest that Virgo has plenty of lunar significance as well (Liz Greene is one off the top of my head that has thrown around the idea of the Moon’s exaltation being in Virgo), but of course Virgo is also the Mercurial prescriber, the medicinal Earth mother, tale of the seasons of Persephone and Demeter, the correlating sign to the Hermit card in Tarot, master of its craft, the maiden, the Virgin archetype which seems to speak less to the archetype of sexless prude and more to the art of learning self preservation. Most of all, Virgo is about a great sacrifice and reciprocity– this is really what the story of Turtle island is all about. Since my 11th house is governed by Virgo and ruled by a 6th house (house of sacrifice) Mercury in Aries, it seemed very likely that the Turtle was an omen of the year to come. To understand how it relates to the 11th house, we’d better go back.
The First 11th House Year (10 years old)
At 10 years old I spent the first few months of my year settling into a townhome with my family after moving back home to Texas. We had been there less than six months and out of nowhere, we were being evicted.
Not only were we being evicted, we had one week to leave.
My step father told us about this so last minute (after knowing for quite awhile himself) that I remember hearing talk of going back to a shelter– we had done that four years before but this time we had two cats that would not be allowed to come with us. Instead my three siblings, my mom and I all piled into the tiny back room of my grandparent’s trailer. Three on the floor, two of us on bunk beds (I was lucky enough to sleep on the bottom bunk), my step dad stayed somewhere else entirely.
The turtle comes to mind when thinking about this first 11th house Virgo year, maybe my grandparents and their trailer symbolized the turtle’s back that saved us from drowning. It was quite a sacrifice of space, peace, sanity— I remember they had each struggled with the general chaos of living with four children 10 years and under, I’m sure anyone would have. More than that though, this event was the beginning of the end of my mom’s marriage, it was within this 11th house year that they separated. When he left, I celebrated like the Skywoman and her dance of gratitude, he could no longer harm us. Something new came forward in place of a temporary shell.
The Second 11th House Year (22 years old)
I moved back to the very same trailer just a few months before my 11th house year began. Instead of eviction this time, a volatile living situation fell through and honestly, I didn’t know what I wanted for my life at all. I knew I didn’t want to live in my grandparent’s trailer, but my mind drew blank when I thought about what else could replace it. I guess that meant I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I didn’t realize it then, but my grandparents were once again my turtle shell.
After turning 22, I was promptly confronted with a plethora of health issues.
Virgo has a special relationship to the gut, the digestive system, and health generally (more Lunar symbolism there) and this year my gallbladder had to be surgically removed. I was rushed to the ER in the middle of the night because I thought my appendix was bursting. I had been having these small attacks once a month only lasting for 20 minutes at a time that I originally dismissed as terrible indigestion or something, but this attack was different, something felt very wrong.
I was diagnosed with Cholelithiasis, my gallbladder was collecting bile, filling up with stones and unable to digest fatty foods properly. It’s funny, knowing my upcoming transits (the lunar nodes in the 6th-12th houses, a Virgo ruled year, Saturn square, natal Mercury square Pluto), I had made a significant effort in the previous 6 months to change my diet, I even took up pilates, and lost 30 pounds. I paid special attention to my gut health in the process, trying new foods and slowly incorporating fresher ingredients. Come to find out, many people begin to have gallbladder attacks when they lose weight because the body metabolizes fat and the liver secretes extra cholesterol into bile that collects into stones.
That tells me a lot about the way fate works.
(Can you really transcend the birth chart?)
Even in my attempts to avoid significant health issues, I somehow created them, or activated something that had been lying dormant.
The first thing I did at the ER when the morphine kicked in and my attack subsided was google the symbolic meaning. The gallbladder is known as the “container of courage" the hub of decisions and sound judgment. Much like the shell containing the Turtle, the shell used as a container for indigenous medicine and wisdom.
This was only one health issue. Back to back all year, I was in absolute disbelief at how many scattered and seemingly unrelated ailments I had. It became exhausting, overwhelming, and fucking expensive. I had to lean on others a lot this year– financially and physically. I really wanted to know why this was happening, why it was so profuse, I wondered if I did something wrong, something to deserve it. I wanted some kind of spiritual understanding to engage with. I’m not sure when the realization dawned, but I do believe that the lesson of this year boils down to a theme of self betrayal.
The only pattern I can find is that each and every time I’ve been sick it’s been a result of doing something against my body. Gallstones, I think, were a result of a poor diet over a prolonged period of time and the sudden change was likely jarring. There are consequences for not eating well enough no matter how delayed (thank you very much Saturn square Saturn). It was the same with every other health issue, from staying in contact with people I felt resistant to all the way to simply overworking, there are many ways you can betray yourself and I have become the master of all of them.
I want to be clear in saying that I don’t necessarily think that every terrible thing that happens to me is all my fault– this isn’t really about blame, but I do think that Mercury in Aries as my timelord is specifically about my own decisions and my level of agency in my own suffering. Many of my decisions that have led to these illnesses have been fear based, echoing the “container of courage” full of stones. It is affirming to know that the numerology and astrology of the year 2024 correlates with the Strength card, a time where collective courage is centered, particularly the gentle, atypical kind.
I hadn’t been moving forward in life because I was terrified of committing to the wrong thing. Before the 11th year, it was like a flood had come to wipe out everything. I felt paralyzed, completely unable to make a decision for fear it would wash away like everything else had before; I knew I had to be intentional this time in whatever I chose to create if I wanted it to last.
After my gallbladder was removed I made many very courageous decisions. I like to think of this removal of the “container of courage” as a newfound inability to contain my own courage– it’s a nice thought anyway. The true sacrifice that Virgo teaches is not the sacrifice of body, peace, or health but the sacrifice of our fear of imperfection. The fear that it won’t all go according to plan. As simple as this might sound and as willing as my mind was to accept and embrace that fact (cause duh, of course health and peace aren’t worth sacrificing), I had not yet integrated it on the level that I needed to actually make self-serving decisions instead of ones that served, worshiped, and multiplied my anxiety.
What I learned…
The 11th house year (especially opposed by Saturn transiting the 5th house) is like attending a mandatory party for yourself. You are obligated to sit in a room of people who give gifts that they bought with merely a projection of you in mind and you must pretend to fall down with gratitude over these “gifts” that you cannot connect to because… they were never really for you, were they? This is because it is in the 11th year that you learn about motivation. Not only other’s motivations calculated by their projections of the future and society, but you may also discover that many of your own motives are not strong enough to withstand future weather. This is especially true if you find that your very own party is being dictated and organized by other people, maybe you’ve even given creative agency over to the fates themselves. When you do this, don’t be surprised if they take full advantage of that which you have given. No, maybe we cannot transcend the birth chart or avoid our fate, but fate tends to overstep only when we overstep our very own limitations with an act of self betrayal. Treat yourself how you want fate to treat you.
However… You will also find helpers, support, and friendship. Ones that see the potential in you, not just in the form you take now but all of the forms to come, they are likely to see something worth investing in. The 11th year is one where you will need help for some reason. Even without physical ailments, it could be a year where you need the support that the 11th house offers. The ones that come to your aid after the party is over are the ones to be grateful for.
The 11th house year is a year of synchronicity.
When the future is a dark blank vision in your mind’s eye, it may be because you haven’t yet met the object of your inspiration nor the friend with an invitation in hand. It’s also possible that this is because there is something deeply valuable right in front of you. Synchronicity is a large part of the 11th house because of the web it is. This is the interconnected network, the thread of fate, the string pulled, the series of events that weave this way and that in perfect divine order. This year I discovered that my motivation is, in a way, synchronicity. Virgo’s lesson is really about letting go of control and to do that you must learn how to be. I received an invitation to move out of state (and out of my turtle shell) because I asked a question about the X Men films. That’s completely true. Something that started innocent, unimportant became an hour long phone conversation and the seed that turned the light on in my mind’s eye. I remember that day well, I had been trying to push and force the answers just for them to come pouring in when I gave up and decided to watch a movie. Maybe “giving up” was actually just listening to my own timing.
In the 11th year, what you believe about where you “should” be in life or how you “should” approach your process becomes more relevant than ever. It’s likely that you’ve put a measuring tape between you and the rest of your peers to invent these “shoulds”— but you’re always on time. You bury your own innate knowledge when you compare and criticize. There are many things I look back and wish I hadn’t done. I wish I hadn’t pined over that one person, I wish I began eating healthier at a younger age, I wish I hadn’t moved in with a stranger from the internet, I wish I hadn’t gone to college, I wish I had saved more of my money, but even these things are synchronous. Even if the so-called failed situation simply made you tired of your own shit, failure is synchronicity too.
I am leaving my turtle shell in a few months, I think I have been gradually coming out of it for a while now. Something that I find to be absolutely beautiful: my first 11th house year at 10 years old began with a Jupiter-Uranus conjunction and my second 11th house year at 22 ends with a Jupiter-Uranus conjunction. It really does bring to mind the imagery of Skywoman dancing with gratitude as the whole world broke free from the Turtle’s shell, I only hope to give back all that has been given to me this year.
On to the 12th house year, out of the shell and into the womb?
Your friendly neighborhood astrologer,
Katie
References
Skywoman Falling, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants. Dr. Robin Wall Kimmerer. (Minneapolis: Milkweed Editions, 2013). https://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/2018/12/20/skywoman-falling-reprint-from-braiding-sweetgrass-by-robin-wall-kimmerer/